Flu
by AzzieMusical
Summary: Minako catches flu during the typhoon, and it's up to Fuuka and Shinji to take care of her.    Slight Shinji/FemC


Dripping her way up the stairs, Minako cursed herself under her breath for being stupid enough to get caught in the oncoming typhoon that they had been warned about for days. On wearily thinking back to her lass class of the day, Mr Ekoda had even warned his class that the bad weather was on the horizon, and that they should think about getting home as soon as they could after the last bell had rang.

Her body was racked with shivers as she entered her bedroom, her hand palming the light switch as she closed the door behind her with a gentle thud. She moved over to peer out of the rain smeared windows, pulling a face to herself at the torrential weather that was sweeping through the city outside, before promptly closing her curtains to keep out the draught.

Her head was starting to pound as she started to undo the front of her school jacket, depositing it casually on the back of her desk chair. Her blouse clung to her skin, she peeled the thin material away with shaking fingers, dropping it into a crumpled heap on the seat of the chair. Kicking off her shoes underneath the desk, she stood on one foot to remove her sock, a wave of dizziness rushing over her at even the slightest unbalance.

She knew the rational thing would be to go have a shower to warm herself up, but her heavy, aching limbs were refusing to listen to ration. Pulling her nightie over her head, Minako sniffled, her nose wrinkling against a sneeze. Every step to her bed seemed to sap her of all of her energy, her skin cold and clammy, yet every swish of thin fabric against it left a burning sensation in it's wake.

Climbing gratefully underneath the covers, Minako closed her eyes, pulling the duvet up over her head. _I'll just rest for a moment_, she told herself, curling up tighter in an attempt to get herself warm, _Just a moment..._

* * *

><p>The wind rattled against the windows as Fuuka gingerly made her way up the stairs, cradling a mug of hot chocolate between her thin hands. She gave an involuntarily shiver, despite the dorm building's heating being turned up to full, and hunched her shoulders up as she stepped onto the third floor landing.<p>

"Are you cold, Yamagishi?" Mitsuru's clipped tone jolted the younger from her thoughts, Fuuka looked over to where her senpai was sitting on one of the couches nestled next to the vending machine, "Perhaps the heating is faulty?"

"Oh, no," Fuuka's eyes widened, "The heating is fine, Mitsuru-senpai. It's just," she hesitated, not wanting to sound childish in front of the older student, "Well, seeing how horrible it is out there. It makes me feel cold just looking at it." Mitsuru regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, before she arched her neck elegantly to peer out of the windows behind her.

"You may have a point," the redhead admitted, "It certainly makes one appreciate being safely inside. Speaking of," she turned back to Fuuka, her dark brown eyes softening just a fraction, "How is Arisato faring? I've not see her since yesterday evening."

"I haven't heard from her either," Fuuka admitted, the concern laced heavily through her tone, "I tried calling her, but she didn't answer. I was just on my way to see if she was okay." Mitsuru gave a curt nod, raising a hand to brush her bangs back out of her eyes.

"Good. We have some medicine if Arisato is feeling unwell. It isn't likely that we could call out a doctor in this weather," she added meaningfully, even with her connections she would face some difficulty, "Tell her not to worry. There isn't much else we're able to do in this weather."

With that, the conversation was closed. Mitsuru shifted her weight cat like in her seat, before returning her attention to the heavy volume she was resting against her knee. Fuuka dipped her head into a nod, before padding down the hallway to the room at the very end, reaching up to gently knock on the door.

"Minako-san?" she called softly on receiving no immediate response, peeling a hand away from the side of her mug to test the door handle, "Are you alright?" The door opened a fraction, a flutter of relief settling in her stomach as she peered around the edge into the room.

"Oh, Minako-san," Fuuka murmured softly on seeing the small figure still bundled up in the bed, a vivid red flush visible across her cheeks, "So you _did_ get sick." Setting the mug of hot chocolate down on the edge of Minako's sink, Fuuka moved to kneel next to the bed, brushing back her team-mate's bangs to feel her forehead. The skin burned beneath her palm, a light sheen of sweat shimmering against the pale skin.

"Mm...?" crimson eyes fluttered open, "Fuuka...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Fukka gasped, her hand flying back to her mouth, "I didn't mean to wake you. How are you feeling?"

Minako stirred weakly, her eyes sinking closed again.

"Not good," she admitted softly, a hand curling in the duvet to tug it closer about herself, "Think the typhoon made me sick." Her voice cracked, and she gave a soft whimper as she buried her face back under the covers. "Please don't tell me I've got to go to school..."

Fuuka's eyes creased in sympathy, despite the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she reached out to stroke what she could see of Minako's auburn hair.

"No, there's no school. It's still really bad out there," Minako's room felt warmer than the rest of the dorm, Fuuka wondered momentarily whether it was because her poor dorm mate was running quite the temperature, "Listen, Mitsuru-senpai said that we've got some medicine downstairs. I'll just go and get you some-" she broke off in surprise at feeling warm, clammy fingers tighten about her wrist.

"S'okay," Minako's voice was muffled underneath the duvet, "Just stay with me for a little? Until I fall asleep again?" Fuuka's expression softened, and she dipped her head into a nod, moving to sit on the edge of Minako's bed.

"Okay," she agreed, pulling her hand easily out of that weak grip, to entwine her fingers with Minako's instead, "I'll stay."

* * *

><p>"How is she?" the deep voice made Fuuka jump as she slid carefully out of the room, and her grey eyes widened on seeing Shinjiro's hulking figure in front of her.<p>

"Shinjiro-san, you startled me," she gasped, holding a hand to her chest, "Oh.. Minako-san? I think she has a bout of flu. Her temperature is very high, and she doesn't seem to be able to stay awake. She was coughing too, and I think she might have-" she fell into a sudden silence as Shinjiro held up his palm to stop her.

"Flu?" he repeated gruffly "Has she taken any medication? Has she eaten? What about drinks?" Fuuka shook her head slowly underneath that penetrating gaze.

"Um, no. I think she's been asleep since she got in yesterday," Fuuka looked up thoughtfully, her thin hands wringing together, "I was going to go get her some medicine, but she just wanted to go back to sleep."

Shinjiro gave an affirmative grunt, before turning away, beginning to stalk down the hallway. He stopped once he reached the landing, tilting his head back to look over his shoulder at Fuuka.

"Well? Are you coming?" he questioned sternly, "You wanted to know how to make chicken noodle soup, right?" He turned around to continue walking down the stairs, leaving a startled Fuuka behind him. She looked back to Minako's closed door, before hurrying down the stairs after the older student.

By the time Fuuka had entered the kitchen, Shinji had already set out most of the ingredients onto the counter, a saucepan already simmering away on the stove. Fuuka watched as Shinji moved over to check on the contents, before nodding to himself, and moving back to the main counter. He looked up sharply at her, and without a word, Fuuka hurried over to his side.

"She won't be up for eating anything heavy, so we're going to make this without meat," he explained gruffly, but with surprising patience, "That's chicken stock heating on the stove," he added before Fuuka could speak, just _knowing_ that she was going to assume it was cooking oil, "The next thing we need to do is add the noodles." He opened the pack that was in front of him, the noodles gleaming from within the plastic.

"We're going to make a batch this time," he moved over to the stove, sliding the noodles into the stock, "If she has flu, she'll be out for a few days. It's important she keeps her strength up, and this way it means that anyone can heat up some soup for her," he took a wooden spoon from the side, starting to separate the noodles into the stock.

"So chicken soup really is good for the soul," Fuuka mused softly to herself, almost wishing she had her notepad and pen to hand to write down what Shinji was doing, he made it look unfairly effortless, "So it's just chicken stock and noodles?" Shinji gave a grunt of confirmation, turning back around to place the sprig of parsley onto the wooden chopping board.

"Yeah. But you add salt, pepper and parsley for taste," he began chopping the parsley, the knife almost a blur as he sliced neatly through the green leaves. Sweeping the chopped parsley onto the palm of his hand, he sprinkled them into the stock, using the spoon to gently stir the flecks of green in.

Just over ten minutes later, a warm smell was starting to emit from the saucepan. Shinji gave the contents a final stir, before dipping a ladle into the soup, pouring out a small amount into a bowl. He added a couple of sprigs of parsley onto the top for decoration, before placing it on the counter in front of Fuuka.

"Here," he spoke awkwardly, Fuuka could swear she saw the briefest hints of a blush staining his cheeks, "You should give this to her. Take her up a glass of orange juice to take the medication with." He moved away to pour the rest of the soup into a plastic container, dropping the empty saucepan into the sink he had already filled with soapy hot water.

"Wait, you want me to take it to her?" Fuuka questioned, grabbing the carton of orange juice out of the fridge to pour a glass out for Minako, "But you made it, shouldn't you? I mean I guess it would be a little strange for a boy to go into a girl's room," she added thoughtfully to herself, "But I'm sure Minako-san wouldn't mind."

"No," Shinji stated flatly, his back to Fuuka as he stood at the sink, "You take it. Don't forget the pills." With that he left the saucepan to soak, pushed a lid onto the container of soup to slip it into the fridge, and left the kitchen with his shoulders drawn up tightly. Fuuka blinked several times, before shaking her head, moving to fetch Minako some medicine.

* * *

><p>It had taken a lot of gentle nudging to get Minako awake and sat up, Fuuka was grateful her friend was always so good natured, even when suffering from a fever. Propping up the pillows behind her friend to make her more comfortable, Fuuka sat on the edge of the bed, resting the tray over her own lap. The soup was steaming gently, and beads of condensation rolled steadily down the side of the glass of orange juice.<p>

"I talked to Mitsuru-senpai, and she said that you should take two of these every six hours," Fuuka picked up the packet of tablets, pushing two brightly coloured capsules out of the blisterpack, "They'll help bring down your fever, and they should make you sleep better." She pressed them gently into Minako's sweaty palm, before handing her the orange juice, watching with a concerned eye as the brunet downed both in quick succession.

"It feels so good to just drink something," Minako admitted through a hoarse murmur, having drained a good half of the juice before passing it back to Fuuka, "Mm, Fuuka? What's that smell?" Her bleary eyes widened warily on seeing the bowl of soup, Fuuka slid the tray over Minako's lap, nudging the spoon over to her.

"Chicken noodle soup," Fuuka gently explained, "It's okay if you don't want to eat too much of it. Just try."

Minako tried as hard as she could not to look apprehensive as she dipped the spoon into the soup, catching a few noodles along with the liquid, and gingerly easing it into her mouth. It was delicious. The stock had been heated to perfection, the warm taste helping the noodles to slip easily down her sore throat. Just the right touch of salt and pepper had been added, the taste flooding over even her tired tastebuds.

"Mmm, Fuuka, this is delicious," Minako murmured after a couple of mouthfuls, "Did you make this?" she asked casually, trying not to put too much surprise into her voice, she didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings after she had been so kind to her. Fuuka gave a sheepish smile, a light dusting of pink crossing her pale cheeks.

"Um, no. Actually, it was Shinjiro-san who did," Minako looked for a moment as if she were going to choke on her noodles, "He said that it would make you feel better." Minako swallowed hastily, her fevered face seeming to be even redder than before.

"Oh... thank him for me, would you?"

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Monday that Minako felt well enough to crawl out of bed. Reaching behind her head to scoop her hair into it's usual high ponytail, she descended down into the lounge, her legs shaking just a little from where she had been led down for so long. She smiled on seeing Shinji's familiar form stood solitary at the window, his hunched shoulders silhouetted against the bright sunshine streaming in through the glass. She skipped across the carpet towards him, grasping one of his rough palmed hands in hers, leaning up to brush her lips against his cheek.<p>

"Thank you for the soup, Shinjiro-senpai!" She flashed an innocent smile at him, squeezing his calloused fingers within her own, before moving away again before he had a chance to respond, giving an excited half wave to Yukari, who was sat on one of the couches with several papers spread over her lap.

Concerned on seeing Shinjiro look so flushed, Fuuka timidly suggested that there was enough soup left if he thought he was getting sick. She hadn't expected him to let out a low groan, tug his hat down over his eyes, and pretend she hadn't spoken.


End file.
